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Thief EyesBy Janni Lee Simner
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The latest YA fantasy book from Bones of Faerie author Janni Lee Simner!
After her mother mysteriously disappears, sixteen-year-old Haley convinces her father to take her to Iceland, where her mother was last seen. There, amidst the ancient fissures and crevices of that volcanic island, Haley meets gorgeous Ari, a boy with a dangerous side who appoints himself her protector.
When Haley picks up a silver coin that entangles her in a spell cast by her ancestor Hallgerd, she discovers that Hallgerd's spell and her mother's disappearance are connected to a chain of events that could unleash terrifying powers and consume the world. Haley must find a way to contain the growing fires of the spell—and her growing attraction to Ari.
Janni Lee Simner brings the fierce romance and violent passions of Iceland's medieval sagas into this twenty-first-century novel, with spellbinding results.
From the Hardcover edition.
- Sales Rank: #1851292 in Books
- Published on: 2011-04-05
- Released on: 2011-04-05
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 8.23" h x .61" w x 5.69" l, .50 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 272 pages
- ISBN13: 9780375866296
- Condition: New
- Notes: BRAND NEW FROM PUBLISHER! 100% Satisfaction Guarantee. Tracking provided on most orders. Buy with Confidence! Millions of books sold!
From School Library Journal
Grade 7–10—Sixteen-year-old Haley has traveled to Iceland with her geologist father to see where her mother disappeared a year before. Hoping to retrace her mother's steps in order to find her, she is drawn into the magical legend and life of her Nordic ancestors, beginning with Hallgerd, a young woman skilled in sorcery who was determined not to be forced into a loveless marriage. The repercussions of Hallgerd's actions affect all of her female descendants from her own daughter to Haley. Simner has done her homework. This appealing novel centers around and embellishes Icelandic legend—specifically Njal's Saga. Simner takes the old stories and brings them into the 21st century in this cyclical novel about the powerful relationship between mothers and daughters. It would be great to pair it with Jonathan Stroud's Heroes of the Valley (Hyperion, 2009) for an examination of Norse mythology.—Heather M. Campbell, formerly at Philip S. Miller Library, Castle Rock, CO
(c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
About the Author
Janni Lee Simner first became fascinated with the Icelandic sagas—and with the woman whose uncle said she had the eyes of a thief—during a visit to Iceland. Standing in the rift valley of Thingvellir with a battered copy of Njal's Saga in her backpack, she realized the characters she was reading about had walked the same ground. As the wind blew around her, she sat down and wrote the opening scene of Thief Eyes.
Janni lives more than four thousand miles from Iceland in Tucson, Arizona, where the hot, dry desert weather is about as unlike Iceland as one can get and still be on the same planet. She's also the author of four books for younger readers and more than thirty short stories. Janni is currently working on the sequel to her first young adult novel, Bones of Faerie.
To learn more about Janni, visit her Web site at www.simner.com.
From the Hardcover edition.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
Icy rain blew into my hood and dripped down my neck as I knelt on the mossy stones. The sky was gray, layers of cloud hiding any hint of sun. The wind picked up, and I shivered, missing the hot desert skies of home. It was way too cold for a June day.
Not that Dad noticed. He grinned as he traced a crack running through the rocks. "Amazing, isn't it? You can almost feel the earth pulling apart."
"Yeah. Sure." I looked down into the small fissure and saw nothing but endless dark. I shifted my soggy backpack on my shoulders and rubbed my eyes, gritty from a night spent flying across the Atlantic. I'd never been much good at sleeping on planes. Yeah, Dad, I followed you four thousand miles to Iceland so we could stare at holes in the ground.
I got up, stretching stiff legs. Beyond a metal fence, the cliff where we stood dropped down to a grassy plain. A gray river braided its way through bright green grasses, and a few wet geese hunkered down by its shores. The geese looked cold, too. Probably they were thinking the same thing I was: the sooner they could get somewhere warm, the better.
"So this is where it happened?" I tried to sound casual, like I didn't much care.
Dad looked up. His dark eyes were shot with red--he wasn't good at sleeping on planes, either--and his hair stuck out from beneath his windbreaker, dripping water. "You mean the rifting? It's happening throughout this valley. The North American and European tectonic plates meet here, and they're forever pulling away from each other. Only the pulling doesn't all happen in any one place, so--"
"That's not what I mean." I fought not to let my frustration show. You know that's not what I mean.
Dad sighed. "No, Haley, this isn't where it happened." His sleep-deprived eyes took on the lost look I'd come to know way too well this past year. The look that made me decide Dad didn't need to know if I'd blown another test at school, or fallen asleep in class because nightmares had woken me in the middle of the night again, or was tired of peanut butter and jelly for dinner but just as tired of cooking if I wanted anything else.
I'd come four thousand miles. This was more important than a few bad dreams or missed meals. "Where, then?"
A couple brushed past us, clutching the hands of the toddler who walked between them. Dad looked at the cracked earth. "Logberg. Law Rock."
"Where's that?" Rain soaked through my running shoes, turning my socks clammy and cold. Back home, we canceled track meets for weather like this--but I was the one who'd asked Dad to bring me here. He'd wanted to stay at the guesthouse and catch up on his jet-lagged sleep.
Dad sighed again. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
Let this go? I dug my nails into my cold, damp palms. No need for Dad to hear me screaming, either. When your mother disappears without a trace, you don't just let it go. "I want to see. Is that so much to ask?" I kept my voice calm, reasonable--the same voice I'd used to convince Dad to take me to Thingvellir today, because I really wanted to visit the national park that was the site of Iceland's ancient parliament and in the middle of a rift valley and, oh, yeah, just happened to be the place where my mother disappeared last summer.
"Fine, Haley." Dad got to his feet, and I knew for once I'd won. I followed him away from the lookout, my running shoes squishing on the wet gravel path. Dripping tendrils escaped my blond ponytail and clung damply to my cheeks. I slowed to match Dad's pace. I'd grown taller than him this past year, which still seemed strange.
The path cut down through a cleft between blocky stone walls that formed a perfect wind tunnel. Goose bumps prickled beneath my damp sleeves. Dad looked up at the rocks. "You can almost see how they must have fit together once, can't you? Before the rifting tugged them apart."
What I saw was my father hiding behind another geology lecture. Maybe Dad couldn't help it. Maybe when you spent your whole life studying rocks and earthquakes, you forgot how to talk to people.
From the Hardcover edition.
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